


lack of time (find some time for me);

by Beanshiee



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: F/M, Sexual Tension, a lot of thinking about each other, a tiny bit of blood, beard trimming, enemies to still enemies but in love anyway, idiots in love but too prideful to admit it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:29:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24075214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beanshiee/pseuds/Beanshiee
Summary: He clenched his jaw, but not in fury, rather in an amusement, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She was smirking, it was barely visible, but he saw it. Clever girl. “You’re trespassing, Deputy. Or are you here to arrest me for something? I don’t see a warrant.”
Relationships: Deputy | Judge & John Seed, Female Deputy | Judge/John Seed, John Seed & Original Female Character(s), John Seed/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 11





	lack of time (find some time for me);

**Author's Note:**

> Some time ago I wrote in one of the “gush about your OC” tumblr asks that Irina trimmed John’s beard once, and I’ve decided to elaborate on the subject, so have this... Thing. Sorry for eventual grammar mistakes, English hard mucho very~
> 
> also, "fjandinn" indeed means "damn/fuck" in Icelandic (my OC is half Russian, and the other half is British-Icelandic + she was raised in Iceland).

John's home, however cozy and quite nicely furnished, was not exactly what suited Irina’s taste. Although she was reassured by the sight of those well-known wooden panels and decorations - including deer skulls and stuffed predators, probably gifts from his oldest brother - she felt jusr overwhelmed by the size of this place. Her heart still belonged to those small cabins in the woods, or even a forest in itself, beautiful despite its dangers. 

She was used to spend the night on a tree branch or in small caves. She usually had company in the form of rats, sometimes wolves also appeared, but after a while it ceased to discourage and frighten her. Routine. At some point she realized that animals in the Whitetails became so used to her that they were almost ignorant about her presence. 

The ranch was, however, an unusually extensive property, and the only living things around were humans - that bothered her. Irina was used to being among animals, but people always heralded potential problems. The only trusted person - though the term wasn’t really appropriate - was John, but she didn’t feel comfortable enough – not to mention that it would just look weird – to follow him everywhere in order to get rid of the uneasiness.

Not to mention that she **shouldn’t** really be here, and if any of the guards caught glimpse of her, she would be probably shot on sight. To Joseph’s greatest displeasure, she imagined.

John got used to her visits, unpredictable and random, and they didn’t bother him at this point. Quite the contrary – he liked them, because it was the only chance to get to know her better. Irina was fascinating, but infuriating as well. He hated and loved her at the same time, because he wanted to know every single detail about her past and her mind, but she was only giving him the bare minimum. And though he liked to unveil everything piece by piece, he wasn’t really patient, and after days, weeks and months of playing this game with her, John’s jaws were clenching with more force, and his eyes were more sharp every time she was saying “no”, or just giving him this ominous half-smile of hers.

Irina wasn’t attractive in the typical sense of the word; the longer he looked at her, the more flaws he saw - lips that were rather narrow, a nose that for most of today's society would be considered a bit too big, eyebrows devoid of natural, feminine shape and symmetry. It seemed like she had never cared her appearance like most women – or, should he say, women that he used to know - did, but it was good because it meant she had more serious priorities. Deputy was also thin, but he suspected that being starved by Jacob had the greatest impact in this case. Her breasts were small, and torso in general was even slightly androgynous. Scoliosis did not escape his eyes either.

She had her flaws, but John knew that people were not perfect by nature; and he sometimes scoffed at himself when he realized that he was giving her appearance too much of an insight. It didn’t matter how she looked like.

But there were things he _**adored**_ in her as well.

A massive scar cutting through her left cheek and distorting the corner of her lips was a fascinating thing – because while it definitely wasn’t something that could be called a jewelry, he was _quite_ close to calling it this way. It was giving those typical, half-smirks of her even more dangerous notes, and in a very weird way seemed to just be _destined_ to be there. John couldn’t even exactly remember how she looked like before the scar incident, and he didn’t really mind. It was unique, and made her look totally different dependable on the light source – when she was sitting by his fireplace, the flames dancing on her features made her look, interestingly, nearly divine; but when he was looking at her in his bunker in a dark room, where only half of her face was visible, he was pretty sure that before his own eyes stood the devil himself.  
  
Irina was a mess. Wild mess, indeed; always in a rush, always chasing someone or being chased, but she seemed to truly enjoy it. And even when she was standing right in front of him, covered in blood and with wet clothes sticking to her figure, John saw in her eyes those well-known sparks of excitement, like if she wanted more, _**more**_ , even though her body was screaming and begging for a rest. She couldn’t live without a fight. Got addicted to it, pretty much like he used to with cocaine and women in the past, and how he got addicted to _her_. It wasn’t safe, it wasn’t even totally rational, but he didn’t want to fight with it, and allowed the addiction to consume him whole.

“ _Fuck.”_ John cursed under his breath, closing his eyes and looking at his hands, standing in front of the mirror. He wanted to start his typical, mourning routine, but his mind had other ideas and wandered somewhere else, somewhere where it _definitely_ shouldn’t be right now.

“ _Fjandinn.”_ This made him open his eyes and look in the mirror once again, only to see her leaning on the doorframe. _Fjandinn_ , he repeated in his mind. Considering the way she liked to use this word, he already managed to deduce that it was something close to English “fuck” or “damn”. _“Does even something so simple as trimmering your beard makes you go all cogitative?”_

He clenched his jaw, but not in fury, rather in an amusement, meeting her eyes in the mirror. She was smirking, it was barely visible, but _he_ saw it. _Clever girl. “You’re trespassing,_ _ **Deputy**_ _. Or are you here to arrest me for something? I don’t see a warrant.”_

Irina sighed, averting her gaze and trying to focus on untagling a strand of her hair. _Covered in blood,_ he noticed. So, everything seemed to go as usual in her life so far. _“Naaah.”_ She murmured, sighing quietly. _“Just trespassing.”_

John smiled a bit. The _audacity_. _“Came to steal another bottle of alcohol, I presume?”_ He asked, his eyes wandering to her slim fingers, fighting doggedly with strands of hair, combined from probably all shades of blonde know to this world. He even saw bits of light brown here and there.

“ _No.”_ She seemed pensive, like if trying to say something. Something that required her to be careful. _“I was just passing nearby. Thought I would come in and see what’s up.”_

Well, _that_ would explain the hesitation, John thought. It was hard for her to admit that she genuinely wanted to see him, because it meant she really cared. Her pride, as always, was standing in her way, but this time she won the battle with herself. He was proud, but now it was his time to keep it to himself.

 _“Well, as you see, ‘something so simple as trimmering my beard made me go all cogitative’.”_ He repeated her words from before and she smiled bitterly, but still didn’t look at him. _“So I dare to say that I’m well.”_

“ _What were you thinking about?”_

Well, he was pretty sure that this question will make it’s appearance, but that didn’t mean he prepared a good response. _About you_ , he wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. They were both prideful, it seemed, too prideful to admit that they have each other in their minds most of the time, one way or another.

“ _I’m afraid I can’t share these thoughts with you. It’s confidential, you see.”_ It was his time to send her a half-smile, with a hint of cynicism in it. Irina looked at him in this very moment, and he saw something flash in her brown eyes. Irritation mixed with interest. Oh, he knew that she would give a lot to get her hands on some secrets regarding the Project’s plans for the future. He also knew that this is not going to happen.

“’ _Confidential’.”_ She repeated and chuckled darkly. _“I’m pretty sure that me and you sleeping with each other once in a month or so is also confidential. Would be_ _ **such a shame**_ _if Joseph and other VIPs of your merry little cult got to know about it.”_

He looked at her, sharpness in his blue eyes, but it only seemed to make her happier, because she _smiled,_ and the smile was nearly genuine. Nearly. He turned around, finally, to actually face her, and leaned on the closet. _“A-aah. This knife cuts both ways, dove. You’re way too smart not to realize that.”_

“ _Mhhhm.”_ There it was, the hint of resignation. _“You’re no fun, John.”_

She rarely spoke his name aloud, and it made him feel something, a burn in his chest, but he decided not to dwell on it. _“Of course not; I’m a professional. But there is always time for fun after the work is done.”_

The girl hissed at him, but he didn’t miss the mirth in it. _“Cheeky bastard, that’s what you are.”_ And with that she slowly walked over to him, holding the tangled strand of hair in her hand. _Now she’s going to change the subject,_ he thought. _“Help me, will ya’?”_

He clicked his tongue in amusement but didn’t say anything, gently taking the problematic strand in between his fingers after soaking them in water. _“_ _Who lost his life today, hm?”_

“ _Today? No one. The blood is two days old.”_ The ease with she was able to give such an answer was something that fascinated him. He chuckled shortly, slowly managing to win the fight with her messy hair, then brushing it behind her ear, mildly looking at the scar on the left side of her face. She always seemed to be nonchalant about it, and even now she didn’t flinch – but he knew how to read people, and never missed the ever so slight hint of irritation when his eyes were focusing on her distorted cheek.

“ _How about a shower, then?”_ John suggested, doing everything he could right now in order not to wrap his arms around her and hold her tight. He could never figure out why he wanted to do it, it just seemed to be an impulse. Sometimes he just wanted to hold her and don’t let go, sometimes to throw her into his bed and make her forget about everything else in the world. But something in him, _the pride_ , he realized, wasn’t going to allow John to admit just how much he cared. _She’s still an enemy_ , he reminded himself. _Oh, but that only makes everything so much more interesting._

“ _I don’t have a time.”_ Irina murmured, and it seemed that she was fighting with something in herself as well. Lust or love, he had no idea. _“Need a help with…?”_ She pointed her finger at his beard, just barely touching it with her fingertip. But it was enough to make him gulp.

“ _Don’t have a time for a shower, but you do have a time for_ _ **that?**_ _”_ It would sound desperate and needy if he just straightforwardly said ‘yes, feel free to help’, so he absolutely wasn’t going this way.

“ _Your suggestion about me taking a shower could lead to only one outcome, and for that I indeed don’t have a time.”  
  
“And what outcome could it possibly be?” _Of course, he just wouldn’t be himself if he wouldn’t start teasing her, and even though his face was stoic, the blue irises of John Seed’s eyes were glistening with obvious answer, the one that he was undoubtedly trying to put in her lips.

But she just shook her head, fighting with a smile trying to form on her face. It also had a second purpose – the hair once again fell loosely on her face, hiding the blush that started to blossom on her cheeks. _You started it_ , she reminded herself, but it didn’t make it any different. “Just… Sit down.”

John literally _**purred**_ , and she just clenched her jaw. Irina didn’t say anything else because she knew her voice would start to tremble. Her eyes were focused on the floor when he brought the wooden chair closer and sat on it, with his legs spread so she could stand between them. _Oh, fuck you, John… Well, at least you’ve got trousers on.  
  
_ She reached her thigh holster – slowly, not to disturb him – and took a knife, getting ready to start. But in this moment those blue eyes of his darkened, and he grimaced.

“ _What? You didn’t think I will use an electric razor, did you?”_ Her words were full of amusement and this time she could fight with an ominous smile that appeared on her lips. _“Oh, come on, John, I’m from a wilderness. Using something like this would be a true **heresy** , in my case.”_

He huffed in agreement and clicked his tongue again, gently but firmly grasping her leg to make her come closer. He didn’t spread his legs only for her to stand so far away from him, after all. Irina hissed again, but he wasn’t bothered by it. John noticed long ago that she was indeed somehow wild, and half of her mind was spoken in growls, hisses and other sounds.

To his interest, Irina seemed to be experienced in beard trimming - she knew how and where to cut, as if she had done it many times already. It made him frown slightly, and he gave her a questioning look. John didn't have to say anything. _You know me,_ he thought. _You know what I mean._

“ _I used to know a lot of bearded men before.”_ Was her answer, and his nostrils flared up a little.

“ _Do I want to pressure this subject, or…?”_

“ _No, I think you don’t.”_ She cut him off, but not angrily, clearly focused on her work and not interested in small-talk of any kind. He felt her fingertips brushing his chin as she tilted his head higher, his whole throat at her disposal, knife literally _kissing_ the skin on it. _“Don’t say anything_ _and try not to swallow_ _right now, unless you want a cut on your Adam’s apple.”_

_He won’t listen to me,_ she thought. _He won’t fuckin… Yeah, of course he won’t._

John didn’t listen indeed, because he gulped with as much strength as he could possibly muster, while looking her dead in the eye. Irina didn’t say anything, just closed her eyes and sighed. _Why did I fell in lo-- Why are you like this…?_

A narrow trickle of blood began flowing down his skin, but the bastard didn’t even flinch, just kept staring at her, a silent challenge in his eyes. _“I’m bleeding, officer. Could you help me?”_

“ _Poor choice of words, my boy.”_ He was older then her, but it didn’t matter. _“_ _Said to a wrong person, they could be misinterpreted in a very, very bad way.”_  
  
“That’s why I’m saying them to you. You’re not wrong person, after all.” Or are you? He didn’t have to say it, because she caught the wind of it immediately.

Irina sighed and put her knife away, then painfully slow kissed his neck, tasting his blood on her tongue. His grip on her leg got stronger and she barely stopped a whine that threatened to rise from her throat.

“ _ **Come on**_ _, Deputy. Don’t be shy.”_ He murmured into her ear and with one strong pull she was forced to sit in his lap, his right hand immediately clutching to her hair, while left one trailed under her shirt, caressing her spine.

It turned out she had to find some time, after all.


End file.
